Big Daddy Diary
by Master Havoc
Summary: Dr. Suchong made a Big Daddy who could think. This Big Daddy begins to question Rapture, in its ideals and the actions of its leaders. M for Strong Language and Extremely Violent Content later.
1. Chapter 1

Big Daddy's Diary

Chapter 1

In the Bathysphere, rising to the surface, the Protagonist saw a small book. He picked it up. There were a few pages missing, but there was enough for it to be continuous. BD 128 is printed boldly on the front.

"Entry 1, April 6th, 1957: Papa Suchong told me to start writing what I'm thinking through the day. He taught me to read and write, so I'm special from the others. Papa Suchong treats me nicely and hardly scolds me at all! He calls me his experiment. I don't know what that means, but I'm sure it means something good. Well, I don't know what to write, except that I'm going to get my suit in just over a week. It looks heavy and stinky. I'm scared. Papa Suchong said not to worry and that I'm strong enough to wear it. I know he's right. Papa Suchong is ALWAYS right.

Entry 2, April 7th, 1957: Training is going to start tomorrow. Today, as Papa Suchong was giving us our vitamins and _stair-oyds _he told us a story of Andrew Ryan and of Frank Fontaine. They sound really stupid and selfish. Parasites, says Papa Suchong. I agree. Frank Fontaine wants everyone's money, so he makes Fontaine's Futuristics. They make the Plasmids that make some people stronger than others and some of the weapons that people use for protection from eachother. I can't wait until I can see a person. Papa Suchong says that he's a person, but he's too smart to be a person. Oh yeah, and Andrew Ryan is a _Hippo-crit_, says Papa Suchong. He tells everyone to not waste and to work for a living, but he just sits in his comfortable office and signs papers. He shouldn't be given just a big house for only doing that, but Papa Suchong scolded me for talking like that. He said that if someone heard me talking like that, then Papa Suchong and I would be put to death. Death sounds scary. I don't want to die.

Entry 3, April 16th, 1957: We got into our suits today. It's heavy but it's not hard to walk around with it on. Papa Suchong says that it's _fyuzed_ to my skin. I don't know what that means, exactly, but I do know that it means I'm never going to take it off. I don't mind. I'm warm. I can walk through water and breathe. I thought it would be bad in it, but I can't get hurt from falling, anymore. It's just hard to get up. Papa Suchong says everything is going to be all right. He would never lie to his children.

Entry 4, April 17th, 1957: Me and the others got to do some testing of our weapons. We were taken apart in half. My half went off and got to try out the Rivet guns. They fire little nails into things really, really fast! We practiced on a wall, then on targets. The tester said that we were the finest group of Rosies he'd ever seen. I guess that's what I am. But later, I heard a couple of Papa Suchong's assisstants talking about us as we walked back to the dorm. One said, "I hate these fucking Big Daddies. They smell awful an' they travel with those wretched little girls. I think the Doc's insane or something." Then, his friend said, "Oh shit, one's watching us. I think he knows what we're saying." The first one said, "No, these little freaks are almost completely morons. They only understand basic vocabulary. Dont'cha you stupid fuck?" Later, I asked Papa Suchong about what they said and his face turned a funny color. I think it was something between red and purple. He started to grind his teeth and said that he'd fire them. I hope he doesn't use that new plasmid on those men. They seemed nice.

Entry 5, April 31st, 1957: We've been trained in our suits for the past 2 weeks and I'm tired! We have to get really strong and fast. They still havne't told us why. The others don't seem to notice that we could be doing something else. This is all they know of. But why am I different? I don't think I should ask Papa Suchong about it. He might scold me again for asking too many questions. I know that he loves me, but we can't talk about certain things in public, or anywhere near a Security Camera. Occasionally, we can talk about things, but he teaches me things very slowly. Papa Suchong told me some more about the outside world. Apparently, people are afraid of me and the others. He told me that we're called Big Daddies and we escort Little Sisters around to harvest Adam. I don't know what any of this means, but Papa Suchong says that it will all come clear in time. I'm starting to doubt that he knows as much as he says he does. He may not be telling the truth..."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The tired Protagonist closed the book and began to consider the Big Daddies that he'd fought while in his stay. He counted them off in his mind. It was hard to keep track, after all that had happened and the fact that he'd gone unconscious several times while on his visit to Rapture. The Protagonist could remember at least 20. Oh well, might as well read the rest. The Protagonist noticed a change in the writing style. It was no longer as childlike, any more.

"Entry 6, May 24th, 1957: We had our voices changed a few weeks ago. My throat hurt so much afterword that Papa Suchong said that I didn't have to write my diary, for a while. Two of the others died when their throats were infected and a third was killed by the machine itself. The machine malfunctioned and sent intense sound waves into his brain, disrupting it. I'm starting to realize that I am advancing far beyond the mental capacity of my fellow Junkmates (that's what we're calling eachother, because we wear these suits). They display a far inferior vocabulary, but I do not wish to distinguish myself as much, so I lower it, for their sake. Anyway, Papa Suchong gave me an update on the war. Frank Fontaine is helping Papa Suchong with his assets, to get more funds for experiments. Papa Suchong told me that he trusts me not to tell anyone. Andrew Ryan was devoting all of his attention on smugglers. Papa Suchong thinks that Fontaine has something to do with it, as he has been making more money than usual. Moving on, we're going to meet the Little Sisters, today. We're not going to be assigned one, yet. We've been told that we won't be on patrol for at least another few weeks.

Entry 7, May 25th, 1957: The Little Sisters are SO much fun! They're incredibly short girls, yet, we are told that they're actually seven to eight years old. I'm only one and a half, yet I'm six foot two. It doesn't make much sense, so I asked Doctor Suchong. He told me to shut my mouth and pay attention. Jerk. My seven other Junkmates and I met with seven Little Sisters. They were very nice and treated us with the upmost respect. The girls all had names, unlike us. All of us are just pointed to and we all know exactly who's being addressed. Anyway, the girls' names are as follows, along with their hair color, the only thing that truly distinguishes them: Annabelle, Dark Brown; Heather, Red; Zoe, Blonde; Sylvia, Red; Katherin, Dark Brown; Karie, Black; and Ester, Blonde. They're both incredibly agile and quick. They ran around us and touched us. There was one thing, that all of us Big Daddies enjoyed, and that is that the Little Sisters gave us names. Katherin began calling one of the Brawlers "Mister Bubbles" and the others picked it up and called all of us "Mister Bubbles". I believe it has something to do with the viewing ports on our helmets. They DO appear as bubbles, now that I think about it. The Little Sisters had the basic anatomy that we all had, but they had something different. We have small, dull eyes, but they had big, glistening eyes that searched all around us, examining. Doctor Tenenbaum, their caretaker, said that when we were assigned one, they will have big, glowing eyes. She continued to explain the process of Adam and the sea slugs that secrete it. My Junkmates were incredibly bored through the whole thing. I appeared to be the only one truly fascinated by what she was saying. I asked her, later, if she had any literature on the subject and she practically glowed with joy. She was incredibly surprised by my spark of curiosity and Doctor Suchong explained to her that I was specially grown as an experiment in making intelligent Big Daddies, that could adapt to nearly all situations and would work as an active police force. The Doctor has never told me this much before! He doesn't seem to like Tenenbaum very much, but likes to explain his theories to her. Probably an ego thing...

Entry 8, June 3, 1957: Doctor Tenenbaum has been sneaking me newspapers from Rapture. I, now, know the extreme amount of propoganda being spoonfed to the denizens of Rapture. Ryan-biased papers are telling of Frank Fontaine's smuggling operations. Fontaine-biased papers are speaking of the incredible waste that the higher-ups have been exhibiting. I think that, if anyone, I dislike Andrew Ryan more than I dislike Frank Fontaine. Not saying that I like Fontaine, but Ryan is a worse person, in my opinion. Andrew Ryan lied to people who came to Rapture looking for a better life. They were under the impression that they'd be in mansions filled with riches and living off of expensive foods like the parasites that they seemingly detested. Instead, there are great minds being assigned to sewer duty and forced to run stores, or be kicked out of Rapture. Meanwhile, Andrew Ryan fucks supermodels (also parasitic) in his fancy government office. I'm sickened by vermin such as he. I have to say that the most decent person in all of Rapture is Doctor Tenenbaum. She's helping to teach me things that that bastard Suchong won't even tell me exist. Not only has she been sneaking me newspapers, but books. The ones that I have been reading contain information on Adam and the Little Sisters. Apparently, there are these sea slugs that a worker found several years ago, soon after Rapture was built. He had slightly paralyzed hands, and the day after he had handled one, his hands were completely normal, again, if not stronger. The head scientists of Rapture were amazed, and took one into study. The slugs produce a strange fluid that, when refined, could produce stem cells and replace or regenerate any part of the human body. They could incorporate this into the medical field, if someone lost a limb, or had a horrible disease, or could incorporate it into the aesthetic field. Doctor Steinman is the Plastic Surgeon in Rapture, having worked on countless patients with multiple "problems" involving parts of their anatomy that they do not like. Goddamn PARASITES!

Entry 9, June 15, 1957: Nothing's happened lately, except that last night we were assigned our Little Sisters. I'm being assigned Annabelle, who was my favorite of the group we visited. The actual chances of getting her were incredibly slim, but I'm glad that I was lucky enough to find the computer and hack into it to assure that we'd be together. She's not much different from the others, but I had a nice feeling about her. Like there was something strange about her. Anyway, we'll be going through the obstacle course tomorrow, after we're sure we're comfortable with the other's methods and quirks. They're going to release some of the smuggler's in there, saying that they will be redeemed if they kill Annabelle, but I know that the only place they'd be going to is the Noose in the forum. Even if they did happen to kill her, they would not survive my wrath. The others would attempt to stop me, but I would be sure to rip them into small, quivering pieces of flesh and let them rot upon the cold, metal floor before I even turn on Annabelle's murderer. I would make sure that they're securely nailed to the floor by the rivets in my gun before I begin to cut them open and feed them their own fucking organs. They deserve nought better for the parasites that they are.

Entry 10, June 18, 1957: Suchong is beginning to notice that I don't like him in the same way that I used to. He's surprised that I don't worship the ground he walks on like the other Big Daddies. He may be my creator, but no Father is he! Those brainless fools that I used to call my friends and peers are resentful. They can't even begin to focus on the simplest of ideas or emotions without nearly fainting. Parasites, all of them! They drag their weight around, barely functioning. I'm sure that the act of digestion is a real problem for them. Goddamn all of them! The only people I can talk to are Tenenbaum, someone I'm glad to call a peer, and Annabelle. She went through the same procedures that were performed unto me, increasing her intelligence like mine, Doctor Tenenbaum says. She's nowhere near my level of wisdom, but she and I can carry on a conversation for a few dozen minutes, at least. I now know that I am probably even further, intellectually, than that parasite Suchong could ever be. I have even been able to construct, for use only by Tenenbaum and Annabelle, a name for myself. It is not what one would normally consider to be name, but more of a title. It took me a while, but I finally found a word to describe myself. My name is...Discord.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

As he read on, the Protagonist realized that he had stumbled upon something monumentally important to the story from the World Below. He had never seen anything remotely like this in Rapture, nor heard from the audiodiaries. It was as if... as if it were all covered up

"Entry 10, June 24th, 1957: I, Discord, have begun to realize how much I have yet to see in Rapture. I have only explored the Nurturing Facility for the Big Daddies and Little Sisters. The possibilities are endless to the outside world. Knowing how incredibly large this area is, I yearn to venture forth upon this new landscape. I was ecstatic when I uncovered the truth in the Doctor's files. Apparently, on the second of July, it will be unveiled quite suddenly on my companions that the next day, the third, they will be thrust upon the world.

I do believe that I was probably acting harshly when I insulted my fellow Big Daddies. They may be dribbling mental defects, but they ARE my brothers in arms against the lowlifes that call themselves common men. We, the Big Daddies, are genetically superior in all but intelligence to these Parasites. And even some of these so called men are no more mentally powerful than my bretheren. I must admit, the humans are incredibly prejudiced and bigoted. Damn Parasites, all of them.

Entry 11, June the 29th, 1957: Well, here we are. Merely a few days before we are introduced to the world and I don't think anything could be going worse. Humans persecute us, treating as lesser than they, when, in reality, WE are the greater ones. Humans are frail, cowardly forms with a mean streak. They form friendships but will stab them all in the back for the right price. We Big Daddies are the New Breed of Humanity. We are greater in all possible ways and nothing is getting in the way of our happiness.

The Torture we endure is insufferable. They limit access to all databases, foods, areas, and even bathrooms. If a Big Daddy retaliates or questions authority, he is given electrical shocks in increasingly powerful doses, depending on the nature of the outburst. Most of my brothers have committed themselves to stomping around and moaning. A fat lot of good that shall do, in the long run. Giving up is for the Parasites, and to call a Big Daddy a Parasite is the greatest sin of all. The segregation of our species is quite fantastic, and it seems the rift shall never be repaired. The only permanent solution is to erase one of us from the face of Rapture and I know that the New Breed will survive. I doubt that a war will erupt, though, as I believe the cruelties are becoming less frequent.

Entry 12, July the 3rd, 1957: I stand corrected. The Parasites CONTINUE to opress us. I must admit, that these injustices will NOT go unpunished. The crimes of humanity upon the New Breed kind are infinite in their injustices and in their quantity. The time for redemption is upon us. I have scheduled a rebellion within the ranks. Tomorrow, I shall begin the revolution. The day of the New Breed is upon us and these weaklings' blood shall run freely in the street. To execute such a plan, I am cutting the power while my brethern run rampant throughout the complex. After the Training Ground is ours, they will deploy troops against us, but that will be quickly countered with the autoturrets that they have conveniently placed at all entrances. I have rewired them so that they will attack all but Big Daddies as soon as the power is cut. I have placed them on a seperate circuit with a trip on the main circuit that will activate them all when the power is stopped. It is my greatest hope that the success of this endeavor shall prove to be the ultimate end to all of humanity.

The outside world of Rapture shall be under the rule of the New Breed of Humanity and all humans will be slowly bred away until they all become like us.

Entry 13, July the 4th, 1957: Things...could not have gone worse. My bretheren lie dead before me. Their blood on my hands. The autoturrets malfunctioned and instead focused their attack on the Big Daddies. We were pushed back to the very depths of the complex and were slaughtered. Very few remain. Somehow, the humans were anticipating the attack and were armed with armor-piercing bullets. So many dead...

THOSE GODDAMNED FUCKS EVEN KILLED THE LITTLE SISTERS TRAVELING WITH US! We tried to stop them, but we couldn't make it! I entered the nursery just in time to see Annabelle gunned to pieces. Rest assured, the killer was given his due punishment. They'll be finding pieces of him for WEEKS. I only wish that I had avoided capture. Tomorrow, the Doctor is going to gloat to me about his victory before he punishes me. He's planning on making the Big Daddies mindless drones (which most of them actually are in the first place) by using a serum to stunt our emotions to pure love for the Little Sisters. Speaking of which, one of the Little Sisters had heard the Big Daddies and I conversing and had told the Doctor of our plans. I don't think I'll have any qualms of silencing her. I'd have to get to her before Suchong administers the serum to me. Now that I think about it, he probably used ADAM to create the serum. I haven't thought of ADAM in the longest time. It has such amazing restorative and creative ability. I HAVE to get my hands on some ADAM and purchase some Plasmids for my own use. I would be able to single-handedly destroy all of Rapture with that kind of power.

Entry 14, July the 5th, 1957: It happened so quickly. Doctor Suchong was recording his thoughts and theories before he injected me with his serum. He had administered a weakened sample to me, to see if it had any effect at all, of which he couldn't see. I was strapped to the table with a part of my arm exposed. It's been so long since I have seen my own flesh. I must say that I am very pale in comparison to Suchong. Moving on, he had the damned RAT of a Little Sister near him while he was recording. She must have had an idea or something, because she attempted to get his attention. He ignored her, but she persisted. Eventually he got so annoyed that he struck her. It could have been the serum, or it could have just been the fact that this act made me snap, but I broke out of the table and roared. Suchong, surprised, attempted to call security a split second knocked him head over heels. He let out a bloodcurdling scream, but that just fueled my rage. I picked him up and swung him into the wall, then onto the table. He layed there for a moment before moaning. I noticed a Bouncer's drill in the corner. I picked it up and impaled the bastard.

Suddenly realizing what I had done, I fled to Doctor Tenenbaum. I requested that she...help me with a problem that I had. The security forces would be looking for a Big Daddy, but they would never find one. I underwent surgery to remove the armor from my flesh and make me look like a normal person again. The only reason Tenenbaum cooperated was for revenge for what happened to the Little Sisters, but I didn't care. I would take enough vengeance for the both of us. When the surgery was over, she gave me some clothes and gave me her security pass. I used it to leave the Training Grounds forever. I must say...Rapture looks beautiful.


	4. Chapter 4

(Author's Note: Forgive me for my hiatus. Anybody who follows me knows that I get horrible bouts of writers' block for LONG periods of time. I've found new time to write stories, so I'm seeing what I can salvage from old writings, and I came across this. It suddenly hit me how I want the character to turn out, so I just started writing and now... well, here it is: Big Daddy Diary, Entries 15-19)

Chapter 4

A sudden chill crawled up the Protagonist's spine. What if... No, he had not encountered anything that powerful in Rapture. There's no way that this… creature could still be alive!

Entry 15, August the Fourth, 1957: It has been some time since I have last entered into this journal, this record of my thoughts. For the past weeks, I have studied and blended into the pathetic worms' existence. What little these bums call lives are the most terribly droll and boring time-spans I have seen. It's as if every man were programmed at birth to follow droll tasks, to perform droll functions, and to blend into the droll society. Droll...droll...droll.

I have heard of a very interesting place, though. Up-Above, it is called. I have very little idea what it means but it seems that everybody in Rapture, except the youngest of children, it seems, have come from Up-Above. I must make it a goal of mine to find out more of its location.

To blend in with the Scum-Of-Rapture, I have chosen a new name that I find deplorable: Doctor Marcus Ransom. It was a simple matter of forging a few documents and hacking a few systems to make quite the history for Doctor Marcus Ransom. It seems that Old Richard is an award-winning scientist from Up-Above. Thirty-five years old, and still no wife in sight. Quite a pity, when you think of it, but I'm not interested in petty relationships. Not anymore. I will not attempt to make "friends", (I scoff at the word) but for the hope of advancement. I need to learn more if I am to make my way to the top. "The Top of What?" I ask myself. This, sadly is one of the few things that I don't know.

Nevertheless, it can be said that I will find employment at the earliest opportunity and continue my studies.

Post Script: It seems that the people of the city have not heard the explosions, did not hear the gunfire, and were oblivious to the failed revolution. The authority of Rapture is either incredibly scared, or… or they merely do not wish the same thoughts to perforate the psyche of the citizens. I can already see that they have failed. I have heard things that the dock workers have said…

Entry 16, August the Twelfth, 1957: I have found employment in a butchery. A deplorable and menial task of chopping at large chunks of flesh, sometimes blood clinging, coagulated, to the skin. The stench is unbearable and the worthless bottom feeders that work in this establishment are even less intelligent than any I had already seen, if it were possible. It is rather easy work, though, with my strength remaining, thought he surgeries removed most of the cybernetic enhancements and extra muscles that made me, truly, a monster.

Moving on, there was an arrest in the foyer of Arcadia, today, which is the reason I chose today to write into the diary (I'm deciding to write in this less, as I am not doing much besides working and reading the literature of Up-Above. More on this, after I have memorized a few more works). A man, by the name of Gibbons, I heard, was arrested for smuggling in religious documents. I set up a security camera to explode violently, giving me enough time to steal as many of the documents as I could. It turned out, that the police is less distractible than I thought, and I could only get away with three books and one of the officers' badges when he chased after me. I'm sorry to say that he won't be found for a goodly amount of time. It is not good for me to draw any attention to myself as I did. I'm glad that the security camera was completely demolished in the explosion, because it had a tape of me hooking up the devices. Apparently, they don't constantly watch the people of Rapture, as previously thought. I must look more into this.

After reading all three books, I have to say that none of them are relevant at all to modern man. The Holy Bible, The Torah, and the Qur'an are all completely worthless documents! I cannot see why these parasites find these so invigorating. They do all seem to stem from the same basic story and they all contain stories that they all share. From reading these, though, I have learned the three languages that were printed side-by-side with the text in English: Latin, Hebrew, and Arabic. It does help one to feel more for a culture, no matter how deplorable, when one appreciates the subtle nuances of the language.

Entry 17, August the Twentieth, 1957: I went back to check on the police officer that I had captured. He is reasonably dead and I'm sure that he won't be returning from the dead, as this Jesus figure from the Bible did. It is good, indeed, to know that nobody checks the meat freeze-drier too often, as I have convinced the back wall of the room to slide out of position, giving me a hiding place for anything that I choose. Then, I can simply butcher the body and add it to the sausage grinder. Nobody will be able to tell the difference between the taste human flesh and ham; both being salty, and semi-tough. I do not feel remorse for feeding Rapture this man, as I have read in many manuscripts and books of the Parasites that the partaking of Human flesh or blood is strictly forbidden. I laugh at this. Why waste the meat of the dead by burying it within the earth, as the dwellers of Up-Above, do? Why send the meat into the sea, only to have it ripped apart by the sharks that dwell in these waters?

While reading, I came across a certain philosopher of the name of Friedrich Nietzsche. Nietzsche, I have discovered, is centuries ahead of his time. His concept of the Man and the Superman… intrigues me. I am being led to believe, more and more, that I, Discord, am this Superman. I may look human, but I have been complimented as looking extraordinarily handsome, I have the strength of at least 3 men, I have the intelligence of all the combined minds of Rapture, I, alone, understand the world and all that occurs within it. I see it, now, as my social - nay! - My _biological_ duty to rule this city!

Anyway, as I, Discord, see it, it is imperative for me to remove those in power; systematically, I will destroy the structure of power in Rapture until it all falls into my hands.

Entry 18, August the Thirty-First, 1957: Being a butcher has its advantages. Like that police officer a few weeks ago, my adversaries have "disappeared" at around the same time we've gotten more meat than estimated. I must watch out for this…

I've decided that I hate my body. I do not need to eat, I need very little sleep, and my mind is always racing. People have noticed that I sleep very little, sometimes none at all, and still come to work and I have more energy than those who had NOT passed out in the gutters the previous night. In order to make a more effective disguise, I decided on a slightly risky procedure: I dissected myself. It may seem insane and even impossible to do this, but my body is incredibly efficient, almost as incredible as my mind, if I dare speak such blasphemy. I merely wished to see if it was possible for me to digest food without having a rotting apple stuck in my esophagus (which it turns out I have) with nowhere to go. When that Damned Doctor created the Big Daddy clutch, he didn't take out our digestive systems (a waste, the knuckle-dragging parasite that he was. Was… I laugh at that.) when he created us. I've also noticed that I have a few organs that aren't in the human physiology. I have not given them names, as of yet, but I do understand the function of at least one. The blue-gray one works by taking oxygen absorbed through my enormous lungs (as not all oxygen is absorbed into the blood stream, as occurs in humans) and creating an essential nutrient that only my body truly needs: EVE. I am amazed. My current theory is that the deplorable Doctor grew us from human embryos with specific genes added/modified… and EVE. I have learned through my studies that EVE is the serum that allows a person to use plasmids. At the very first moment I can get my hands on some ADAM, I will buy as many plasmids as will fit in my veins.

Entry 19, September the 26th, 1957: I did it! I DID IT! I "acquired" some ADAM from a medical facility. By acquired, I mean I put on a quick disguise, walked in, killed the receptionist (the walls were reddish, hiding the blood that, now, splattered them. Pity), and robbed the place. Shortly thereafter, I heard the sirens and bells of the Rapture police. Now, I implemented Step 2 of my plan. I activated my remote proximity grenades at the door, hidden by flashy pottery with wilting plants. Shortly thereafter, I heard the explosions that marked where step 3 would begin: The simultaneous explosion at the First Bank of Rapture. Most of the police were redirected there while I sneaked away through the smoke, disguise burned in the flames.

Later, I hid most of the ADAM that I found in my secret chamber. I decided to put on another disguise (a young Jewish fellow, today) and had to hold myself back from sprinting to the Gatherer's Garden. I examined the choices thoroughly, as this was probably the most momentous occasion of my life, after my freedom. The choices were as follows: Electrobolt, Inferno, and Telekinesis. There were several tonics available, but I was not interested, as I could already do much better than a normal man on one of these tonics. I finally decided that Telekinesis would be the most helpful, while not seeming violent, though it could certainly be used as a weapon, as I quickly learned.

It was quite difficult attempting to find a good place besides my Hidden Chamber (a Freeze-Drier is not comfortable after a few hours) to practice my new plasmid in. After cleansing an alley of the Garbage that filled it and cleaning up the blood that leaked from them, I practiced with picking up cans and bringing them closer to me, then throwing them away as hard as I can. I had to leave when the can that I decided to crush into a discus pierced the building that I was throwing the can against and embedded itself into the inside wall.

It is truly a joyous occasion to wash the blood from one's clothes after a hard day of work. The cow blood does not bring as much satisfaction as the human blood, though. When I, Discord, scrub the stains of scarlet from my hands, I see the lives of the Parasites washing down the drain, as they would inevitably do to themselves. All in all, I'd say that it was a wonderful day.


End file.
